


Play Your Cards Right

by eijisjade (hazyamethyst)



Series: between the cities, between the thrills [2]
Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Falling In Love, M/M, Pre-Relationship, ash is soft for eiji what else is new, basically everything is the same but shorter and ash live :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 08:38:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17659445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazyamethyst/pseuds/eijisjade
Summary: He’s about to flop, again, when a warm hand closes on his shoulder and a whisper makes its way into his ear.“Are you winning, Ash?”





	Play Your Cards Right

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my contribution to this small but lovely fandom. I'm still hurting about the anime ending so there's approximately zero(0) angst in this. Of course, there are some minor spoilers for the anime/manga so keep that in mind! Also, I tried to make things as clear as possible but in case you're not familiar with poker at all here are some basic terms you'll see being used in this fic, and their meanings:
> 
>  
> 
> " Blinds: Short for "blind bets," these are the forced bets made before the cards are dealt. In Hold'em, blinds take the place of the classic "ante."  
> Preflop: Anything that occurs before the flop is dealt is preflop.  
> Flop: The first three community cards dealt.  
> Call: To match all previous bets without raising.  
> Raise: To increase the previous bet.  
> Check: Similar to a call but no money is bet. Checking is only possible when no previous bet has been made on the current round.  
> All-In: A player puts all of his or her remaining chips into the pot.  
> Turn: The fourth community card dealt; also known as fourth street  
> River: The final (5th) community card dealt; also known as fifth street.  
> Showdown: When players reveal their hands to discover the pot's winner. "
> 
>  
> 
> [Source](https://www.pokerlistings.com/poker-rules-texas-holdem) (This page has more info on Texas Hold Em, it's a quick read and it explains everything you need to know.)
> 
> **Update: I polished this baby up a bit, corrected some typos and stuff!

Poker, Ash thinks, should be something he avoids. Not because he’s bad at it, but because of the circumstances in which he was taught how to play it. When he was a child, there was no money involved, only clothes and old men gawking at his bare skin and refusing to acknowledge his cards when he won, sometimes even sending the cards and chips flying with the swipe of an arm when their luck run out, never came or they’d grown too horny to bother with any pretense of foreplay. They didn’t see the beauty in the game, weren’t clever enough to take in all the valuable lessons it teaches. Lying with a straight face, lurking, singling out certain types of players and being patient are all things that Ash came to see the value of at a very young age thanks to poker. Playing a bad hand could have disastrous consequences fast, basing a strategy on some lone random hunch, too. Being overly cautious gave away a sense of honesty and cowardice, a childish wish to never lose, but being consistently aggressive more often than not resulted in rapid losses.

Good judgment is key, clearly, and it can only be gained through something he has a lot of, for better or worse: experience.

Of course, his boys are nothing like the pigs he used to be forced to play with back in the day. The ones that often join him to play some Texas Hold ‘Em expect no stripping, or docile behavior, wouldn’t ever think of cheating as something worthy of severe punishment. No, his boys are aware of his skills, and perhaps more importantly, of their implicit didn’t-see-didn’t-happen rule since it governs most of what they do on a daily basis as well. No shiny reputable casino would let half of the shit they do fly, would ever understand they give their brains break by fine-tuning their attention to work with the trivial: extra cards, stolen chips, wandering eyes and, by far the worst of it all, a paid-off dealer. It’s a mess at best, but it kind of takes their minds off things while still putting to use whatever talents they had.

Ash knows they all need to wind down after the whole business with the break-in to Golzine’s mansion and his, Eiji and Shorter’s rescue so this, spending the night in what’s long been dubbed _The Burnouts’ Hideout_ , seems to him pretty appropriate. After all, he’s missed the lively vibe of this place more than he cares to admit. It’s Shorter’s territory out here, one of Chinatown most tranquil areas, all residential houses and tall trees that if followed right lead to an unappealing small house that stands out, all boring with its brown bricks, tall grass and flicking paper lanterns that are supposed to make it look lived in. It’s a shit effort, no wonder Shorter continues it, on the pretext that it gives the place personality. The ugly house it’s mostly an accessory, though, merely what led Shorter’s gang to discover a gigantic basement that Ash has yet to guess the original purpose of. Not that it matters much now that the place is always stocked to the brim with beers and snacks, big speakers standing tall on each corner, 65’’ TVs hung up on the walls and consoles hooked up at the ready with baskets full of controllers arranged conveniently nearby. As for the room’s decoration, it consists of a mix of normal light bulbs dangling lonely, usually dim, and neon lights that dance all around the place and like to reflect off of the broken pieces of mirrors that scatter, along with Polaroid selfies, the graffiti-painted walls. The sofas are a godsend, the tables ample and the cushions so high-quality it makes the most athletic among them go lazy.

It’s fine.

Most of his gang is sat comfortably around the coffee table he’s at, playing Poker, while the Chinatown gang is at the many consoles, their whoops of excitement and swearing booming in the distance, especially Shorter’s angry stream of _‘Sing, you fucker.’_ with the occasional high-pitched, definitely indignant , _‘Kids these days!’_ tacked on at the end. Ash likes to piss Shorter off saying it’s something about the Oriental descent, their love of tech and videogames, but if he was _so_ wrong then why did Eiji run off so quickly at the briefest mention of the new FIFA _‘Ohhhh it’s the latest, really? It sold out so quick.’_ or whatever. As long as he’s having fun Ash is content. It just proves his theory, is all.

What is FIFA, anyway?

Some sports game, right? He swears he’s heard it being talked about, but never paid much attention.

Something to do with pole-vaulting, perhaps?

Alex signals to the cards he’s dealt and Ash goes to grab them, willing his mind to clear and focus on the game he’s not that much into so far. Bad luck with cards, mostly, it seems to continue on with a seven of hearts and a two of diamonds. He’s about to flop, again, when a warm hand closes on his shoulder and a whisper makes its way into his ear.

“Are you winning, Ash?”

_Eiji_. His mind is quicker than his body to catch up, so he’s to make a conscious decision to relax shoulders and move his hand from where he’d pressed it to his chest to hide his shitty, flop-worthy cards. Surprise dissipates into wonder, of what Eiji is doing here, of whether he lost already or not, maybe got bored?, of why he’s so close and how the simple question is making him feel self-conscious about his less-than-great actual status in the game when two minutes prior he couldn’t care less.

“No. Not yet” He replies, gaze still trained on Kong and his shit-eating grin. He’s up in first place, partly thanks to _his_ chips, the green ones, the ones he bet with confidence (half of his total) and lost them over a very, very lucky flush that outdid his double pair of aces and queens. Ash knows he should really flop and cut his losses now, but that’d make it the fourth time in a row he does it pre-flop and everyone knows that’s just too easy. Too honest, or cowardly, and he can’t have that. Not when he’s their boss, not when he’s got the Big Blind and definitely not when Eiji is lingering behind him. “I’ll check.”

“All right, gentlemen” Alex nods, his tone the usual mock formal. “Here comes the flop,”

The atmosphere shifts with Eiji around. One by one those who’ve already flopped turn their attention none-too-discreetly to him, somehow expectant, as if Eiji’s presence was a game-changer. He gets it, in a way. Anyone else sneaking up on him like that with no urgent message to relay risked him getting hostile at worst or receiving a very public reminder of his need for personal space at best. Shorter was an exception, being his lifelong best-friend and all. But the naïve Japanese boy that joined them months ago? Well, for all they know Eiji could be a killer poker player, right? Unlikely, but still. Ash wouldn’t know until he saw, and see he wanted. It was the same thing with his gun back to when they met. He’d just wanted to _see_ , see if Eiji would be a threat, or a troublemaker, or just someone to be wary of.

He proved to be everything else.

“Care to join, Eiji?” Ash turns around, eyes meeting a black tuft of hair that just barely allows a glimpse into the face beneath. All he can tell is that Eiji is lying as if sleeping, arms folded loose over the broad backrest and cheek rested against the cradle of his elbow so that his chin grazes the gold plush fabric of the couch only at intervals. Ash doesn’t want to disturb any of it, not exactly, but his free hand still reaches out to comb the thick strands away from Eiji’s face. The boy doesn’t flinch, or complain, his eyes all big and dreamy when Ash can finally look into them.

“Ah, I don’t really know how to play.” He smiles, almost a wistful thing. “I wanted to watch you and learn.”

“Yeah? I don’t think you could see much.” He quirks an eyebrow, aiming to downplay how he’s relishing in the intensity of Eiji’s sole focus in him, of that easy soft-spoken ‘you’. It sort of fools him, how Eiji looks at him, like he’s got anything to offer at all, ever, other than sex and a bullet in the head.   

“Hmhm, good point. Can I sit with you, Ash?”

Ash’s grin widens a fraction, oddly pleased that Eiji’s mind unknowingly followed his line of thought. “Of course. Suit yourself.”

He moves to the side to make place for Eiji to sit, elbowing and throwing his weight whole onto the men to his left as he pushes, their hushed whispers and muffled laughs falling on deaf ears. He’s stalling the game, and acting less tough by the minute but it’s not that big of a deal, no, not when Eiji ends up squeezed between him and the armrest, expression calm and welcoming even as he arranges one leg to be half in his lap, half dangling off of it like it was casual for them. This closeness.

Wanting to make a point in favor of it, Ash angles his body slightly towards Eiji’s and extends an arm along the backrest that now supports the Japanese boy. They share a small smile before Eiji signals to Alex, for some goddamn reason.

_Oh. Poker, right._

“-hearts. Queen of spades, ohhh, and…a two of spades.”

Alex’s announcement is met with little enthusiasm, as it usually happens this early in, so the man goes back to practicing some showy tricks with the cards as he shuffles them. Ash spots the flop’s first card is a ten, he’d missed it being read out loud, it but it’s not like knowing changes much. It’s not all bad though, he’s a pair already.

Of twos.

The outlook? He’d be aiming to either get another two for a three of a kind, or another seven for a double pair.  Or both, for a full house. Chances are slim, he’s not about to deny that, expecting any different or summoning some elusive ‘luck’ would be plain laughable. No, what he’s doing is the equivalent of playing a small pocket pair out of spite at how statically low your chances are of getting them, only worse, so much worse, because what he has is _the_ smallest pair and doesn’t actually classify as ‘pocket’ when you needed the flop to form it. Both Kong and Bones would have to be not only bluffing, but bluffing so bad they don’t even have a pair. Any pair would do, even another sad pair of twos but with a queen or king or anything higher than a seven.

Clearly, he’s hoping against hope.

Not Kong, though. By the looks of it the revealed flop has him interested, heavy fingers alternating between tapping on the table and lifting up the edge of his own cards so he can have a peek. Ash isn’t buying it, the careful consideration, his suspicions only confirmed when a big fist comes down to knock dutifully on the table. The fact that he checks instead of raising, a textbook _flat call_ , points to him having a good thing in the works.  Maybe a straight, with the ten and the Queen already in there. He turns his attention to Bones but is timely distracted by a finger poking at his shoulder.

“Can I?”

Eiji is pointing at the cards, _his_ cards. Pressed together so only their checkered backs can be seen, they’re being spun around between his fingertips as he tries to keep outwardly calm about his piss-poor options. For a moment, though, Ash flounders, eyes darting to Bones only to see him pushing a stack of chips forward with a concentrated frown. So he’s raising, enough to lure in and test the mood of the table without giving much away. Worst case scenario, they all go along and Kong wins but at least Bones gets to keep a healthy amount of chips while also busting Ash in the process. If Ash doesn’t call, then he lost the big blind _but_ if he does and manages to scare Kong off via some clever use of body language, after the turn is revealed, he might get him to flop in caution. That way, he’d be all free to pull a sudden all-in to Bones last minute and have him truly doubt, and with the weight of Kong’s recent flop the most likely scenario is he’d follow right after, just in case. Not because he doesn’t have the chips to call his hypothetical all-in but because he doesn’t have that many more for it to be tempting and insignificant, like Kong does. If Bones loses the round after calling then he’d have a stack and a half left…and that’s soon to be two big blinds, give or take.

Yeah, Ash can’t wait to get back some chips.

Strategy decided on, he hunches forward to push a stack of chips, a fifth of his total, and makes his choice to call public. He foregoes checking around for reactions, not that he can’t guess them, and instead makes a show of sinking back into the corner of the couch and switching which arm he’s spread on the backrest, the non-too-subtle slide of his right arm down the cushion surely tipping Eiji off about his intentions. As it is, Ash wraps an arm around the lean muscles that make up the boy’s midriff and squeezes, this side of too tight, before pulling Eiji closer to him and letting him take a peek at his cards. All too easy, Eiji comes, like a leave swept up in a wild draft forgetting all about the caring hold of branches or the certainty of the solid ground.  Ash aches at the thought, feeling selfish but unable to stop watching, and hearing, and feeling. There’s a surprised gasp, delayed, coming from Eiji and morphing into something even softer when his head ends up finding home in Ash’s shoulder. If anything, Eiji seems all the more loose like this, half in his lap and limbs all entangled with his own. It’s like seeing the cards had him appeased, or maybe he understands Ash can’t exactly explain much right now but he wants him to be _in_ it, with him, wants him exactly where he’s at reach, safe, all soft textures and quiet wonder.

“What’s it gonna be, Kong?" Ash tuts, as patronizing as he can muster when he’s so badly Eiji-dazzled.  “Gonna chicken out so early in? Pity.”

“You wish, boss. Sucks Eiji came just in time to see you bust out. Hurts the ego much, eh?”

“We’ll see about that.”

Kong calls then, and far to his left Bones gives a minimal nod to Alex as if he was waiting for the signal and not dragging it on to up the tension, wear out the impatient. Ash seizes the opportunity to inspect around for possible helpers to cheaters but most of his boys are on their phones or heckling Alex so the chances are low. Especially since Bones is sat at the end of the table, in a couch all by himself. Kong, he doesn’t trust much, the man is very swift hiding his knives and bats in his casualwear but he’s also proud, so he’d like to believe if he's so confident about busting him he’s gonna do it in good law.

“The Turn” Alex announces, laying the card on the table but not flipping it over. “Wanna see it?”

“YES!” comes the booming answer, succinct, before the longer ones can be finished.

“Anytime today fucker!”

“Alex you sissy bitch flip it already.”

“Play magician with the girls. Come on, dude-”

“I’ll tell you all one thing, okay? This round is finished,” he pokes the card insistently. “This can be whatever, doesn’t matter. Y’all should know better by now than to get worked up over cards. Cards don’t mean shit.”

“ _Ohhhhh”_

“Who’s cheating, hey?”

“Did you see something? Yo, Alex.”

“Cheater caught cleans the main hideouts, we’d agreed on that, yes?”

“Alex, I won’t tell is it....hmmfffffttt? Is it?”

Ash is kind of fucked. Alex has an eye for this sort of stuff and it’s obvious whatever they did it’s done and he didn’t catch it. He narrows his eyes and hardens his expression as best as he can at both Bones and Kong, hoping his disappointment bleeds through. He’s not above cheating but he was counting on them this time, thought they were all being fucking grown-ups and sucking it up however it went. Alex turns the card face up, at last, so it can lay by the flop and give some illusion of order. It’s a queen of clubs. By itself it’s not bad, but a pair on the table is everyone’s pair and it just doesn’t help. Someone could have another queen and that’s three of a kind, maybe also a ten and there’s a nice full house. Boy, wouldn’t he kill for a full house, it’s such a cool hand to have, not too rare, not too common, with enough odds to win most times.

“Next round,” Ash mutters to himself, watching Bones fiddle with the lone shoulder strap of his dungarees. “I’ll get you both.”

A hand on his nape, small, fingertips scraping the sensitive skin where hair begins to grow, eases his frustration. “Eiji,” he breathes, squeezing the boy where his arm still cradles him, somehow causing his bright open-front hoodie to slip off his shoulder and for how much unaffected Eiji looks about their mess of a match, it’s ridiculous he’s the one to overwhelm Ash with his random delicate gestures, making him take breath, yes, what’s there to worry about when you’ve caught a glimpse of a toned, perfect shoulder and arm and there are electric tingles running down your spine? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Eyes fluttering close, Ash blindly follows a faded citrus scent and ends up headfirst nuzzling a neck, Eiji’s, and damn, what is he doing? The skin against his cheek and under his lips is smooth, its smell heavenly fresh as he breathes it in and drags his nose up a messy path to a spot just below Eiji’s ear. There, the lemon notes of his perfume are sharper, which only serves to further muddy Ash’s thought process, at least enough to debate if a kiss would be too much, just a peck to bid the goosebumps away and invite warmth before his mouth finds Eiji’s ear and he fails not to whisper into it a plea to never stop using this perfume, to tell him its exact name and brand so he could buy him heaps and-

A fit of abrupt coughing brings Ash to his senses and to his horror it dawns on him it’s coming from Eiji. He might have been pressing into him a little too hard so he retreats, worried about the full-blown redness of his cheeks but also noting his coughs lack much depth, almost as if he… he surely wouldn’t?

Or maybe, yes, he would. His hand freezes on Eiji’s back and it’s not two seconds after that the boy gets up clumsily and excuses himself to go get some forgotten water bottle. He himself has done that, too. It’s not nice to think about, but it works for the most part if the person has any tiny bit of compassion. It wouldn’t altogether deter the advances for him, he _was_ prostituted after all, but faking allergies, coughing, and even asthma attacks had more than once allowed him to destroy moods in an instant.

The idea of Eiji feeling like that because of him, though? He’s ashamed to the point he wants nothing more than to be beaten to within an inch of his life then be burnt slowly- no, better yet, be fed to piranhas, a childhood fear of his after reading one too many encyclopedia entries on the vicious fish with the ugly deadly teeth. Dino had helped it stick by telling his naive child self that the pools and lakes and seas and rivers were all brimming with them so the sight of big bodies of water alone would have him paralyzed in fear, which was of course never not convenient. Growing up he came to know the truth but the trauma is there, which would make it a suitably torturous death for him.

“Okay, whatever, I won’t declare your cards dead just this once, Ash. Let’s say refusing to play equals checking.” Alex explains, snapping his fingers at him but Ash can’t do other than clench his fist and frown, lost in his own thoughts. “-which you can’t so you’ll have to call, here we go, one stack and a half that’s it, good, you’re owning this boss. Kong, your turn. ”

Not having the nerve to look at wherever Eiji went, much less follow him, he does the mistake of facing forward, exactly to where there’s an openly amused Kong staring back. It makes no sense. “Well, I ain’t know if _‘whipped’_ cuts it anymore, to be honest.” The big man chuckles, voice raspy and deep. “This is on another level, boss.”

“There’s nothing funny about it,” Ash spits out. His blunt nails are digging into that bit of his palms that’s always kind of swollen when regularly exposed to gunpowder, the base of his thumbs. Way too riled up, that he is, could do something stupid impulsive any second now and he knows it. Like letting his boys be an outlet for his mounting fury at himself. It’s not right, would make him feel shittier in the end, so by way of warning he surges forward, upper body looming over the table and the cards as he glowers at the still-not-too-convinced man. “Stop. Laughing.”

“Yeah, Kong, grow the fuck up!”

“Giggling like a girl, you bitch.”

“The boss can do what he wants, where he wants, K.”

“It’s the nervous giggles, I call it. He’s cheating, boss.”

“He’s jealous, Ash. Wants you to give him some loving too.”

“Jelly Kong!”

“Bad Kong!”

“Kong likes brunettes, you idiots. Shorter’s sister, for example.”

“ _Woooo_ ”

“Uh-oh”

“He knows no limits!”

“With the _sister_.”

“And she’s Asian, just sayin’…”

“Kong, bro, _no._ ”

“Number one rule in a gang”

“Do not mess with-”

“The boss’s-”

“Ash?” Eiji appears in his line of vision and the silly hollering stops just as quick. If he was overwhelmed when he left now he’s barely a step away from having a meltdown. He truly is past understanding whatever got his guys so feisty and loud. He’s _hurt_ Eiji, in front of everybody. He should be the one being condemned, however jokingly, not Kong. Him.

“Ash, scoot back.” Eiji signals, hand making an outwards sweeping gesture. He’s stepping closer, though. “Lie back, like before. That way I can sit, that’s it. Great!”

Ash finds himself well under his spell as he does what the older boy commands, letting him cling onto him and place his hands where he wants them, which is, apparently, his lower back and thigh. His head comes to rest in the hollow of his shoulder again, and Ash holds his breath, willing his body to be as still as a rock and his mind to clear. He needs to get back in the game, let Eiji just be.

“And finally…the river!”

A collective groan soon follows the reveal of a four of spades. Ash is mildly tempted to throw his cards in the air and make a dramatic exit with Eiji, maybe ask the boy to show him those videogames or just convince him to join Shorter’s gang in whatever nerdy thing they were up to now. It’s a joke, the suit being spades again, someone might have hit a flush now. And then there’s him holding a meager pair of twos, apparently 200 chips in and about to be outclassed by a cheat all while Eiji had a front seat to watch the showdown.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

“So, you know how you got a gun,” Ash almost thinks it’s a thought, his imagination running wild but then he registers a finger tracing the knobby vertebrae of his spine, all the way down from his middle back to where a leather grip obstructs its way, “always on you?”.

“Yeah,” Ash mumbles distractedly. Kong would fold, ideally, but there was a spark in his eyes when they met each other’s gaze that told Ash he knew his prediction to a T, worked to make it a reality, and soon he’d be reaping what he sow.

“It’s kind of cool, Ash.” Eiji coos, the sweet lilt of his tone compensating for his how bold his hand is being, blindly feeling for his piece through his clothes. “I might have something as well.”

That grabs his attention. _Cool?_  “What do you mean?”

“Shhhh. Keep looking ahead.” Eiji reprimands, bringing some fingers up to trace his jawline. Ash would guess it’s an accompanying warning not to turn, and unused as he is to heed such things, it makes him want to all the more. Next best thing is focusing on the clear-cut pattern of the touch, so he does, eyeballing Kong as he neatly pushes three stacks of chips into the pot and has the nerve to smirk at him. Ash inwardly curses him but it’s a short-lived thing as he feels his own hand being guided under a hoodie and an ironed-crisp shirt, south, until the cards he holds bump into another pair.

Cards. Two.

Two cards tucked under Eiji’s waistband.

His arm freezes, realizing the realness of the situation, of where his hand is, of the implications of Eiji of all people doing this. He’s weirdly conflicted, wanting to prove can handle a game of poker in a lawful manner, he can beat his boys unaided, he’s not some desperate amateur. Hell, he was supposed to be teaching Eiji how to play, he wanted to.

Old habits die hard, however, and it’s too tempting an offer to pass. Switching the cards with a flick of his wrist he smiles brilliantly at Bones who’s going all-in, biting his lip and assessing Kong with a serious, almost somber expression. See, he thinks it’s him, the cheater. Ash did too.

Eiji was coy. A pretty cheater, hiding in plain sight.

From him, too.

Caught in a flurry of emotions Ash snaps the elastic band of Eiji’s boxer briefs, not hard enough to really hurt or make a sound, but enough to maybe redden the skin. Call it a silent warning, a reminder. Eiji wriggles slightly in his lap but otherwise he goes back to scratch-combing what little hair grows on his nape, posture held pliant and open. Good. He’s _good_ , god does Ash know that, it’s not like he doesn’t appreciate the gesture, he does, but as far as being blindsided goes he’s simply not too thrilled. Also, Eiji had no need to put the cards _there_ of all places, where his spine bows and he’s all soft skin, delicate and lean and vulnerable.

He’s so vulnerable around him, that’s the gist of it really.  It drives him up the wall how little he seems to notice, or care.

“So, what’s it gonna be Ash?” Alex questions.

He checks, going all-in, and hands the cards over to Eiji since he’s kind of obstructing him. “Do the honors, Eiji?”

Eiji beams at him, cheeks catching color all of a sudden. His gaze flits down to his body and his head draws closer and down in a way Ash doesn’t entirely understand until Eiji looks up from below, a shy smile playing on his lips as he speaks.  

“Always, Ash.”

The words almost fade as it clicks, what he’s done. Eiji bowed to him. It was messy and impromptu and, above all, common Japanese behavior but it’s also Eiji doing it and that alone changes everything. Ash is left gaping, heart jumping in his chest and stomach curling in fear and want and things too jumbled to put a name to. He’s unworthy, and he’s not about hiding it and of course Eiji knows. He knows more than most about his trauma, and the extent of his pain, just how downright broken he is. Eiji knows, and he still does, won’t pull away or stop being reassuring and it’s the sweetest most dangerous balm Ash’s damned soul could ever wish for.

Predictably enough, uproar breaks out when Eiji finally stretches an arm to lay two queens on the table, making Ash’s winning hand public: a neat four of a kind. There are insults and wild accusations but Ash is wholly unlistening as he watches Eiji ask Alex for permission to collect his winnings then proceed to scoop the chips before the man even had time to answer or attempt to rat him out. Nobody dares confront Eiji, though, so once he’s finished he gladly resumes his use of his shoulder as a pillow, only this time he’s humming some happy tune. Ash asks him about it when it seems he’s about to stop, and Eiji explains it’s Japanese, a song he’d dubbed a nightmarish poppy earworm but now is nostalgic about because it’s what was usually played in Japan’s local juvenile athletics competitions when the winners received medals or trophies. Maybe it’s the foreign aspect of it, or the breathiness of Eiji’s voice, that makes Ash found it calming even while clueless about the meaning behind it. He plays the next rounds with a clearer mind, takes calculated risks and doesn’t second-guess himself about folding when a hand is lousy or something about his boys’ expressions or acting feels amiss. Eiji stays put throughout it all, sipping from his water bottle occasionally but otherwise watching in attention as Ash explains the rules and valid hands to him. His confidence is fully-restored when he ends up winning the game, about an hour and a half later, with a sleepy Eiji mumbling his congratulations and pleas to carry him to ‘the car’. Ash had no car, presently. New York, thankfully, did. In abundance.

Carrying Eiji proves to be not so easy a task, though. He’s not exactly a leaf so Ash makes him use his feet as he closes his arms tight around Eiji’s torso and presses him to his side which prompts Eiji to throw a heavy arm over his shoulder, his other hand clinging to his neck. It should work better than it does, really. Eiji still feels he’s going slow, and is quick to be vocal about it, his thick Japanese slurs drowning out Ash’s grunts and pants as he trudges on and then actually slows down to a tortoise pace to guide Eiji’s clumsy feet up the narrow steps of the stairs that lead to get to the house’s ground level.

He catches a glimpse of Shorter standing by the house’s crumbling porch on the way out and stops on his tracks, trying very hard not to have Eiji slide down and out of his grip as he props him up against his side.

“Didn’t need them. But thanks”

“Sure.”

Shorter winks at him, perfectly aware of the effect it has on Ash when he’s this irritated. He wants to say so much, to smack him for having Eiji cheat and make it so obviously not obvious. Getting a pocket pair of queens is rare, especially when there’s not one but two on the table already but who’d doubt Eiji, other than the sixth-sense witch that’s Alex? No-one, that’s fucking who. Unless, of course, said witch had already dealt out another queen to his boys- then Ash would’ve been done for. “They just had to go under the waistband, right?”

“Oh, a deal-breaker, yes. Eiji suggested it. A man of great ideas.” Shorter chuckles, chin signaling to Eiji, who’s quieted but is as intent on slipping out of his hold as when they were moving. Ash’s arms burn from exertion and his body is steadily breaking a sweat but as long as he can keep going he doesn’t really mind. “He honest-to-God has a fixation with your S&W always being tucked there, Ash. It’s…”

Forget the sudden piercing gaze, the act alone of Shorter taking his sunglasses off sobers him quick. “Don’t.”

“It’s getting serious.”

“ _Shorter.”_

“ _Ash.”_  He doesn’t make it a big deal, which he’s thankful for. Just the glaring truth and a pat on his shoulder, almost appeasing.

“It’s getting fucking serious, buddy.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> me, getting mixed-up who bets first on each round??!?
> 
> y e s.
> 
> Comments/ kudos make my day !!


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